It was by design, that he was alone. He had built his life in such a way that no other person could fit in without causing the entire structure of his self existance to fragment. He worked hard at keeping people at a safe distance - always giving them reasons to remain on the outer cusp. He had an edge - razor sharp, that would cut and slice at anyone that dared to test his will. He was as turbulent as a hurricane, but without the calm inner eye that would give you a moments peace before the storm swelled again.

Sometimes the sun would shine in his world, but the black, rain laden clouds would still linger on the horizon. The atmosphere crackled with energy. Everyone could tell when the storm would start to settle in - some knew even before he would recognize or acknowledge it himself. Perhaps it was the way he carried his shoulders, or that vein in his head that would start to tick.

When she would come, they never knew the outcome. She would take the brunt of it, she always did, but what would the end result be? There were whispers in the hallways that he would, one day, kill her in a rage. His closest friends would vehemently deny the possibility. He did, after all, love her. She had filled in the empty spaces of his life without fragmenting his world. She made him stronger.

And yet, still, he drove her away. The weight of his decision lingers.